


Under the Black Lights

by prettymuchdorian



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Car Sex, Chubby Derek Hale, Clubbing, Dry Humping, Frottage, Height Differences, Introvert Derek Hale, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Size Difference, Switching, Trans Derek Hale, Trans Male Character, gender-nonconforming character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:28:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29151243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettymuchdorian/pseuds/prettymuchdorian
Summary: “D clasped his fingers around the back of Stiles’s neck to steady himself and toy with the curls at the nape of his neck. Stiles was saying a little “Thank you” to the universe for his good fortune, revelling in the hot body grinding against him, when D’s husky voice took up the chorus:“I don’t see nobody else.‘Scuse me while I feel myself.‘Scuse me while I feel myself.”D punctuated the chorus line by running his hand down the front of his own chest, over his stomach, and then grinding the heel of his hand against the fly of his jeans, letting out an almost inaudible gasp each time he literally touched himself.”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

It had been ages since Stiles had gone dancing. He’d been working his ass off, though, and his friends were right: he deserved to blow off some steam. The pounding music started working its magic on his tension the moment he stepped into the club. 

It wasn’t long before he had shed his winter coat and pushed his way to the bar for a drink. He had a lot to celebrate tonight. He’d gotten accepted into a residency at the local pediatric hospital. Four long years of med school had paid off, and he was going to start the incredible and heartbreaking process of working with children going through difficult health events that they never should have to experience. Stiles had a special way with kids, though, and there was nothing better than making a child laugh, perhaps especially in their last days. 

But tonight wasn’t about work. He was letting his hair down. Well, figuratively at least. He’d pulled his hair up into a messy bun in preparation for a sweaty night. 

Stiles hit the bar and then retreated to a corner table to sip on his whiskey sour and warm up from the cold night. The DJ was playing some bass-heavy remixes of popular songs, new and old, and the main lights had given way to colored globes along the walls, giving sweaty faces a glamorous sheen.

His eyes lingered on a small group of friends across the room. A man and a woman he’d seen before, and their friend, who was definitely a fresh face. 

A shy smile and dimples for days, framed by spiky dark hair. This guy was definitely pulling off a hot goth kid vibe with his all-black look, complete with eyeliner, combat boots, and an old band t shirt that hung off one shoulder. He turned to speak to one of his friends, and holy mother of...that ASS tho. Thick thighs and the roundest ass Stiles had ever seen had been poured into what must have been a sturdy pair of skinny jeans, based on the strain it must be experiencing. Because DAMN. 

Stiles wasn’t sure how long he’d been staring before Isaac found him and looked across to see what had Stiles’ attention. 

“There’s the Stiles I know and love,” he said, laughing. 

“Shut up! Let’s dance!” Stiles said, pulling his friend out on the dance floor. 

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” Isaac moaned, allowing himself to be dragged into the crowd all the same. 

It didn’t take more than a few songs to get Stiles in his happy place, moving his hips to the music, feeling the bass in his bones, and closing his eyes in the throng of people, all happy to be off of work for the weekend. 

When a frantic song faded into a mellow one, Stiles came back to himself a bit and looked around. Isaac had returned to the bar for another beer, and Stiles was considering doing the same. His thin shirt was sticking to his chest, and he felt parched. As he turned to go, he found himself face-to-face with a much sweatier version of the cute guy he’d seen across the room. His spiky hair had wilted in the heat and humidity, dark curls plastered to his face. He had his eyes closed and he was singing along to the music:

“Some of them want to use you.  
Some of them want to be used by you.  
Some of them want to abuse you.  
Some of them want to be abused.”

Stiles forgot what he was doing. 

Full lips. White teeth. A flash of pink tongue. Flushed cheeks like he’d just run a marathon...or come hard. 

Cute Goth Guy opened his eyes and met Stiles’ gaze just as Stiles was imagining what his sex face might look like. 

Shit. Okay, but it’s not like he could tell what he was thinking, right? Although Stiles had been told many times that he was not subtle. Oh God, what must his face be giving away to this handsome stranger?

Something. The answer was definitely SOMETHING, because the hottie formerly known as Spiky Hair was widening his eyes and looking Stiles up and down. Biting his lip. Quirking a smile. And...walking away? Stiles tripped after him.

“Buyyouadrink? That is, can I? You, a drink. Can I buy you a drink…?” Smooth, Stiles. Real smooth. 

But apparently his awkward charm was working, because Mystery Hottie was pausing thoughtfully and giving him a little nod before turning to watch his friends across the room. 

Huh. All right. Stiles himself is not exactly the silent type, but he can roll with this. He ordered them both a session ale on draft from a local brewery, hoping for some cool townie points if this guy is from out of town. 

When the bartender set down the beers, his handsome stranger picked his up with interest, gave it a smell, and tipped the bottle back for a taste. It’s a win, based on the pleased sound and the happy wiggle he earned. 

Jesus, this guy is adorable. 

He turned and looked up at Stiles from under dark lashes and sexy, smudged eyeliner. 

“Hey.”


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles almost startled at finally hearing the guy speak. His low voice was quiet enough that he might have missed it amid all the noise, except that Stiles had been paying quite a lot of attention to that mouth. Now he was chewing on his full bottom lip, waiting for a reply, and looking so fucking kissable. 

Stiles cleared his throat. 

“Hey! I’m Stiles?” he said. 

“D,” said his drinking buddy with a quirk of his lips, taking another drink and letting his eyes wander over the room. 

When Stiles continued to look a bit confused, he said “Call me ‘D’,” with an easy laugh. 

“D,” said Stiles, “I like that,” earning himself an amused quirk of an eyebrow. 

“Dance with me?” Stiles said in a rush. 

D bit his lip again, giving Stiles quite the blatant once-over this time, eyeing him like a cat preparing to pounce. Jesus, the things this guy was doing to Stiles with just a look. He might be in love. Or at least his dick was. 

He gave a nod and a little smile, gesturing to the bottle in his hand to get Stiles’ attention.. Ah, he wanted to finish his drink first. Stiles preened at the thought that he’d clearly ordered him something he liked...to put his mouth on…

They sat in silence for another couple of minutes, D nursing his beer, tapping a rhythm on the glass bottle with his short black nails. His eyes roamed the room, anywhere but on Stiles, but he had a distinctly pleased look on his face. 

Stiles was trying to school his face into something neutral while he not-so-subtly watched the way the bottle dragged across D’s bottom lip as he slowly slid it in and out of his mouth with each sip. That fucker had to be doing it on purpose. No one could be this hot by accident. 

D put down his beer with an air of finality and slid down from his bar stool. He was shorter than Stiles had realized — about a head shorter than himself. He definitely didn’t mind the way D tilted his face up to look at him with keen eyes. He motioned to Stiles to lead the way, and soon they’d made their way to the middle of the dance floor, bodies pressing in all around, music thumping. 

Lizzo’s voice started cutting through the end of the previous song, and Stiles thought he heard D whisper “Yessss.” 

D turned around and looked over his shoulder at Stiles with a grin before beginning to dance, rolling his hips to the beat, his ass mere inches from Stiles’ crotch. He felt like he could feel the heat coming off of him, and he didn’t think he’d ever been so turned on by not touching someone. 

Someone near Stiles must have already been pretty sloshed, because he bumped into him with an erratic dance move, pressing Stiles flush against D so that Stiles had to grab the other man’s hip to keep his balance. Stiles let out a gasp as D’s ass dragged across the straining denim at his crotch, causing his dick to ache at the sudden touch. 

“Sorry!” Stiles yelped, taking a quick step back, but D was leaning back to whisper “Don’t be. Like being touched,” replacing Stiles’s hand on his hip and grinding his ass painfully slow against Stiles’s dick. 

D clasped his fingers around the back of Stiles’s neck to steady himself and toy with the curls at the nape of his neck. Stiles was saying a little “Thank you” to the universe for his good fortune, revelling in the hot body grinding against him, when D’s husky voice took up the chorus:

“I don’t see nobody else.  
‘Scuse me while I feel myself.  
‘Scuse me while I feel myself.”

D punctuated the chorus line by running his hand down the front of his own chest, over his stomach, and then grinding the heel of his hand against the fly of his jeans, letting out an almost inaudible gasp each time he literally touched himself. 

Stiles couldn’t believe how fucking hot it was watching D touch himself, fully clothed, while he rocked his ass against Stiles’ painfully hard dick. 

If this song went on much longer, there was a distinct possibility that Stiles was going to have a sticky mess to deal with. But it was 100% worth having this memory in his spank bank, even if he never saw this guy again, because holy shit, this was definitely in the top 3 hottest things that had ever happened to him. 

As they danced, D’s shirt shifted so that Stiles’ hand slid onto his bare hip. D was quick to communicate that he was a fan of this development, raking his fingernails down Stiles’ neck and pressing back against Stiles’ dick like he really did want to make him come. Stiles took the hint and slid his hand down D’s soft stomach, earning himself a bitten off growl from D, who rested his head back against Stiles’ shoulder, panting.

Stiles apparently needed to switch shampoo, because he had a face full of curls that smelled amazing. Fucking oranges and pine and...something heady and sweet that made him just want to bury his nose against D’s neck. 

Stiles skimmed his fingers down toward the waist of D’s low-slung jeans. D’s eyebrows knitted together as his mouth fell open. He could feel a rasp of hair as he dragged his thumb just inside the seam of his jeans. D, with something between a laugh and a frustrated grunt, interlaced his fingers with Stiles’ wandering ones, gave his hand a quick squeeze, and used the leverage to pull himself to face Stiles. 

He gave Stiles another thoughtful look. 

“Not here,” he murmured as he snaked his arm around Stiles’ waist before snatching his phone from his back pocket with an impish grin. Before he could respond, D had waved the lock screen in front of Stiles’ face to unlock it and begun typing. 

Who was this cheeky little shit? And could he keep him?

“My number,” D said, sliding the phone back into Stiles’ pocket. 

“Oh!” said Stiles, understanding dawning. 

D looked up at him once more with those intense eyes, and then let his gaze travel down to Stiles’ lips. His tongue snuck out to wet his bottom lip before he began leaning toward Stiles. Mere inches before their lips would have met, he grabbed a handful of Stiles’ shirt and tugged him forward so his lips were grazing the shell of Stiles’ ear. 

“Use it,” he said, in a voice that brokered no argument. 

He let go of Stiles and, with a lingering look, stepped away towards the exit where his two friends were waiting. The woman, tall and fierce-looking, wolf whistled at him, and he immediately gave her the finger, but with a huge grin and a reddening face. Slipping on his black leather jacket, D looked back one more time as he passed through the door, catching Stiles still standing and staring from the dance floor, feeling both confused and very turned on. 

“I think I just got mindfucked,” he told Isaac, as soon as he caught up to him at the bar. “And I think I liked it.”

Isaac shook his head with a laugh. “Okay, buddy. But be careful, I bet that one bites.” 

“Oh god, I hope so.”

“Too much information, Stiles! Too much!”


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles was still only partway through his second whiskey sour of the night when he heard a now-familiar voice behind him. 

“Hey,” said D. He was back, and he was looking sexy as hell leaning against the bar in his black leather jacket with his brow knitted in thought. Fuck, it made Stiles’ dick twitch. Apparently Stiles still had a thing for bad boys, God help him. “Walk with me,” D said, already turning towards the door, sure Stiles would follow. 

Isaac shot him a smirk as Stiles stumbled off of his stool and said “Byyye!”

“I see how it is,” he said with a laugh, knowing full well that this was essentially his goal in dragging Stiles out tonight. 

They stepped out on the dark street, streetlights glinting off wet pavement. D took a few paces before turning to crowd Stiles up against the brick face of the club. He looked almost...bashful for a moment, before he cocked his chin up to look Stiles in the eye. 

“So, uh. I usually have this conversation later,” D began. Stiles watched in surprise as D began to speak more than he had the rest of the night. It seemed to cost him something, but his mouth was set in a determined line. “But I really want to take you home tonight,” he said, the confident smirk leeching back into his voice. 

“I’m trans. Like, fuck-my-partners-with-a-strapon type trans,” his casual tone belying the fact that his cheeks were turning rather pink. Stiles’ eyebrows shot up as he realized this was the reason D had hesitated to fool around with him on the dark dance floor despite seeming to REALLY want to. 

“So if the lack of cis dick is going to be a dealbreaker for you,” he went on, “I’d like to know now, because if it’s not, I would really like to fuck you up tonight,” he finished, eyes dark and serious. 

“Fuck,” said Stiles, feeling more turned on listening to D say shit like that to him than he did even feeling the man grind his ass against his dick. 

D quirked an eyebrow, clearly looking for a bit more of a response. 

“Fuck yes. I mean, no!” D cocked his head to the side in confusion. “No, not a dealbreaker!” he said in a rush. “My best friend Scott is trans. I mean we never slept together. Or like, not in a sex way...but yeah! I’d like to. Get fucked up, that is. By you, specifically. Jesus Christ.” Stiles felt like his face was on fire. He did not want to fuck up his shot with this guy, but he couldn’t seem to stop talking. 

D looked up at him with a satisfied grin. “I can deal with newbies. I’ll try to be gentle…” he said with no small amount of mischief in his eyes. 

“Please don’t,” Stiles breathed, more to himself than anything else, and D barked a short laugh. 

“Come on,” he said, grabbing Stiles by the hand and tugging him along towards the parking lot. Holding hands with D was a thrilling combination of schoolyard sweetness and sexy dominance, the way he held his hand tight, occasionally squeezing it hard in what seemed to be an involuntary twitch of anticipation. 

Before Stiles knew what was happening, he was being slowly backed up against the side of a black SUV. “God, I want to touch you,” D groaned. He let his eyes linger on Stiles’ bare arms, his practically see-through tank top, and then his face, which was framed with blonde wisps of hair that had escaped his hair tie over the course of the evening. 

“Oh hell yeah, please,” Stiles said, breathless. 

D braced himself against the car window next to Stiles’ head with a thunk, and then his eyes fluttered closed for a moment while he slowly slid the fingers of his other hand up Stiles’ thigh. 

For the second time tonight, Stiles was worried that he was about to embarrass the hell out of himself by coming in his pants over the way this guy touched him. Not to mention the way he looked at him. And God, the way he TALKED...

Stiles was whispering a litany of “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” as D slid his hand up torturously slow to cup his dick through his jeans with strong fingers, gripping just on the good side of too hard. He could feel his cock throbbing in D’s grasp. 

“Shhhh,” D murmured, and Stiles could hear the smile in his voice. He took his other hand off of the car to pull Stiles in for a kiss.

Stiles had never had a more filthy, languid kiss. D swiped his tongue along Stiles’ bottom lip and then slowly licked into Stiles’ mouth, sliding along his tongue like he was trying to taste him before pulling back. He took a moment to just stare at Stiles’ lips and then unconsciously lick his own before leaning back in to lay claim to Stiles’ mouth. Every time the flat of D’s tongue dragged against his own, hot and wet and so fucking slow, Stiles shuddered, his spine tingling. And just when he was settling into the rhythm of this honey-slow kiss, D began to move, giving his balls a squeeze before dragging his palm up the length of his cock and running his thumb over the head. 

Stiles felt like the breath had been knocked out of him, and he threw his head back and— 

“Ouch!” Stiles yelled as his head slammed into the car door. 

“Oh shit!” D yelped, cupping Stiles’ face in both hands and turning his head side to side to check out the damage. “Are you ok? Was that not ok—“

“No! I’m good! So good!” Stiles squeaked. “I may have just gotten, uh, a little over excited. And apparently lost control of my body,” he laughed, hiding his red face in D’s neck. Oh God, the musk of leather combined with the sweet smell of D’s hair was heaven... 

“Hot,” D said, grinning. He ran his hands up and down Stiles’ arms, soothing. “You’ve got goosebumps! Shit, you must be freezing!” D said, slinging his jacket around Stiles’ shoulders. “Here, get in,” he said, opening the passenger side door for Stiles and giving him a hand up before hopping in the driver’s seat and cranking up the heat. 

Before long, the warm air from the heater was blowing gently against his face and he was snuggled deep into D’s jacket. He realized he must have closed his eyes at some point when he opened them and saw D looking at him from the driver’s seat with a hungry expression. 

“You look good in that,” he grinned, looking almost sheepish at his own admission. “Come ‘ere,” he said, sliding the driver’s seat back and resting his hands behind his head, casual as can be, like he hadn’t just invited Stiles to come straddle his lap in a public place. 

Stiles gave a hurried nod before clambering over the stick shift and settling himself down hard in D’s lap, legs spread wide on either side of the man’s thick thighs. D looked up at him like it was Christmas morning before gripping his own leather jacket by the front to pull Stiles in for another kiss. 

There was something about fooling around in a car that made Stiles feel like a horny teenager again, and it went straight to his dick, making him groan into D’s mouth as he rode his lap, grinding his achingly-hard cock against the fly of D’s jeans. D’s kisses turned from lazy to frantic then, teeth tugging on Stiles’ bottom lip before releasing only to press his hot tongue into Stiles’ mouth, like he owned it. 

Stiles moaned low at that thought and rolled his hips faster, his hands running over D’s broad shoulders. D came up from the kiss gasping for breath, eyes shut tight like he was gonna — oh fuck. D grabbed Stiles’ hips and started jerkily rutting against his cock with a growl. Stiles was just along for the ride at this point, feeling the vibration of zippers and denim sliding against each other. And now that they were pressed so close, and they were both so hard, he could feel the hard nub of D’s dick grinding back against his cock as well. 

Stiles’ thoughts touched on a long ago conversation he’d had with Scott when he had started taking testosterone, when he explained with a beat red face that his...uh...dick had gotten a lot bigger and more sensitive, in addition to all the new body hair and man stink he had developed. Stiles had only cared for his friend’s excitement and embarrassment with his changing body at the time, but suddenly in this context, that fact was a whole lot more...relevant. And fucking hot. 

D looked down between them where he could see the two of them grinding together, and he shot Stiles a wry smile. “I’m usually not this fucking easy...but Jesus, if you keep that up, you’re going to make me come.” 

Stiles’ hips stuttered at that, and he lurched forward to press his mouth to the junction of D’s neck and shoulder with scraping teeth and hot tongue. “Oh shit, yeah, so fucking good,” D murmured, encouraging Stiles by grabbing Stiles by the hair and pressing him closer. Stiles took the hint and bit down with more force, feeling D tense up under him and then groan low, shaking as he grabbed at Stiles to finish himself off against him. 

D leaned back panting, and looked up at Stiles with blissed out, dark eyes. “Come home with me,” he said again. 

“Yes, please, yes,” said Stiles, still trying to regroup his thoughts after watching D use him to make himself come...fucking hell, this guy made him want to beg for it. 

“Gotta climb down then, babe,” D said with a smirk, doing absolutely nothing to help as he ran his hands up and down Stiles’ sides, under his shirt, clearly enjoying the way it made him shiver and twitch. 

“Ugh, fiiine,” whined Stiles, maneuvering over to his own seat. “But you better make it up to me. I’m suffering here.”

“Of course,” D said with a look that was both amused and very turned on, his lips still wet from furiously making out. “You’ve been so fucking good for me.”

“Ughhhhh, how do you know all of my secrets?!” Stiles complained weakly. “You’re going to make me catch fire, saying shit like that to me.”

D revved the engine with a cackle before pausing a beat and then reaching over, getting all up in Stiles’ space to fasten his seatbelt, which he’d neglected to do in his distracted state. 

“Safety first,” D said in a singsong voice, pulling an innocent face that was fooling no one.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been wanting to write a fic with a trans character for awhile. I’ve seen a lot of writing from the perspective of someone coming out as trans or being in early transition. This fic is a bit different, since I’ve used my experience as a trans guy who’s been transitioned for a long time and a part of the queer men’s community for a long time.
> 
> Enjoy. ☺️


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